


It Was Always About The Blue

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season One</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Always About The Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my LJ in 2008

     It was the blue that sealed his fate. From as far back as he could remember, he loved the color. When he learned in class about Picasso’s blue period and its interpretation in the art world, that it represented melancholia, Justin still loved it. He reasoned it was because so many people told him that his eyes reminded them of the deepest ocean, and he always dreamed an ocean was timeless.  

     When he was young, he would scour books and magazines for pictures of sapphire water. He'd hold them next to his face in front of a mirror searching for a resemblance between the luminescence of the color and the commonality of his own eyes. More often than not, the comparison eluded him. But on rare occasions, if the light hit his eyes in just the right way, he could see the similarity. He marveled at forces in the universe that granted such an affinity, that allowed a connection between his own fleeting passage on this limited plain of existence and the endless continuity of the color that claimed more than half of the earth’s surface. In those moments, he felt a metaphysical kinship with the mysterious blue, as if he were timeless as well.

    No matter where he was or what he was doing, color made a difference. It was always about color. Somewhere in his genes, one of his ancestors must have been an artist. What other reason could there be for his talent? He was forever associating and cataloging events in his life by shades and hues, never by emotions and feelings. He rationalized, perhaps erroneously, that he could assure himself of a disconnect from the more unpleasant happenings in his too short life if he viewed memories through the filtered lens of his artist's eyes.

     It stood to reason that the first time he was in the loft, with his blue plaid shirt and the blue lights above the bed, he instinctively interpreted it as a sign. He always believed his life was a series of signs or markers, and it was his responsibility to recognize and interpret their importance. So on that very special night, when he gave his body and soul to Brian, he knew it was meant to be, that they were meant to be.  

    He went to Liberty Avenue knowing what he wanted but not knowing what to expect. He didn’t think the trip would be so exhausting. Was it really that hard to give up your virginity? Why on earth was it such a pain in the ass? He couldn't help but laugh at the question.

    Daphne reluctantly dropped him off but not before making him swear on their friendship that he would call if he ran into trouble. He stood on the corner, lit a cigarette and wandered the street with a confidence he didn’t feel. After numerous conversations with himself to bolster his courage, he made up his mind. He definitely was going to do this. There certainly wasn’t a shortage of volunteers. Every few steps, he was propositioned by any number of cruisers. But there was a problem.

    He had no doubt he was ready. Considering how often he jacked off to the suggestive pictures hanging in his room or the charcoal drawings in his sketchbook, he was more than ready. Like an unscratchable itch, it drove him crazy. But giving it up to a stranger who could care less about him was more than a little intimidating. He didn’t want to be a conquest or a notch on a belt. There had to be something more than fucking just for the sake of fucking. He wanted the intangibles. He wanted what his parents had, a loving and intimate relationship.

   That’s why he was leaning against the lamppost on that fateful night—because he was searching. That’s how hazel and blue coalesced and blended into a previously undefined, unconventional color—love. The how and why two souls met. Disparate ships passing in the night and yet somehow, they were forever.


End file.
